Elixir
by Vee-sempai
Summary: When out on a routine investigation, Ed and Al run into what appears to be a bizarre manipulation of the Philosopher's Stone, resulting in a rash of... the living dead? RoyLiza, WinrySchieska, and Elricest.
1. Chapter 1

The reports had started flooding into Central early Saturday morning.

Since they were, by the far majority, emergency reports from civilians, they were accorded the highest priority. That meant they went in the incoming "A" box, as the receptionists called it. Those were picked up around noon by the assistants, while the front staff was out at lunch. Where they went after that... well, no one was sure but the higher-ups, and they didn't do a lot of socializing with the receptionists unless they were looking for a date.

With that in mind, it was actually an incredible stroke of luck that the girl from the corner store had stood Jean Havoc up the night before. The front desks were usually a good place to go to stroke a wounded ego, so he'd snuck out of his desk the minute Colonel Mustang had turned his head.

"Hey hey, Roxanne!" Havoc leaned over the edge of the young woman's desk, putting on his best grin and hiding his cigarette. "What'd you do with your hair, it's gorgeous!"

"You think so?" she preened. "Well... I used a new shampoo..."

"Well, it must be some great stuff." Havoc flipped through the stack of papers by her phone. "Hey, this is our old jurisdiction... tell you what." He winked flirtatiously. "I take this up to the Colonel, so you can take off early for lunch, and I'll meet you at the commissary. Sound like a plan?"

"I'd love to!" Her eyes lit up. "Will your whole office be eating with you?"

Havoc picked up the papers, grinning happily. "No, I can probably tell them to shove off-"

"Oh, no, you don't have to! I've always wanted to meet Colonel Mustang face to face!" She waved after him. "I'll see you all at lunch! Thanks for the help, Mr. Havoc!"

It was really his own fault, really. He'd forgotten rule thirty-two: never, and that meant NEVER, mention Colonel Roy Mustang. Havoc sighed, then eyed the reports. Civil disturbance, civil disturbance, civil disturbance... more civil disturbance... from all over the old jurisdiction. East City, outskirts, Bord'wan, suburbs...

Havoc paused outside the door to Mustang's office, looking through a bit more carefully. They all were written to sound pretty much the same... and all had come in over the space of an hour. After a minute, he collected his thoughts and headed inside to the desk by the window with a businesslike stride.

"Sir, aren't the Elrics in Bord'wan?" he asked casually, dropping the reports on Mustang's desk.

"They're probably still there, yes." His superior eyed him with faint curiousity. "Why?"

"...You might want to look at those."

There was no newspaper waiting outside the inn door when Ed opened it in the morning. No newspaper, and no tea or coffee, or anything. Normally, that kind of thing wouldn't bother him at all, but he normally wouldn't be expecting it. And when people didn't meet Edward Elric's expectations, it really ruined the rest of his day. And everyone else's, if he could manage it.

"Didn't they promise breakfast, Al?" he demanded, slamming the heavy oak door and stomping back into the room. "Didn't that guy promise, isn't that why we paid extra?"

"I don't really remember, Brother." His brother's hollow voice was only faintly apologetic; he seemed pretty wrapped up in whatever book he'd picked up from the nightstand. "You could go complain at the front, if you think it'd do any good."

"You know what? I think I'll do that!" Ed turned on his heel and headed straight back out the door, ignoring the tinny sigh that drifted out after him.

If it wasn't enough of an insult that the "crimson elixir" that had drawn them out here was a complete and utter sham- just a weak, flawed version of the fake Philosopher's Stone they'd kept running into all along- now he was getting shafted by an old man who thought he could milk some money out of the military. He probably didn't even want their lousy watery tea, but he'd be damned if an innkeeper in some backwater town was going to make a fool of Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. No, he was going to get his money's worth if it was the death of him.

"Hey, I've got a bone t' pick with you, you no-good, cheating-"

The words echoed throughout an empty common room, caught up with the cool breeze that whistled through the open front door.

"Uneducated... rotten..."

There was no one there.

Ed paused for a moment, listening. No clanging from the kitchen. No steps in the back. No voices outside, or down the hallways. There were still uncleaned dishes on the tables, half-full mugs of mead glistening with condensation. Upended chairs littered the floor, like the entire population of the room had suddenly been moved to bolt out the front door.

And it seemed they hadn't come back.

"Hello?" Ed called cautiously, peering out the front door. Nothing. Not even a stray dog. He considered taking a few steps out, then made the rather level-headed decision (if he did say so himself) to go get his brother first. Not that he was scared or anything, but no one with half a brain took on a large-scale disappearance without keeping an eye on their trusty partner.

He made it up the stairs in record time, wishing about half-way up that he'd thought to shut the front door. "Al? Hey, you're never gonna guess what I just-"

"Something's wrong, Brother."

Ed fell silent, crossing the room to his brother's side. The hulking armor was motionless in front of the window, a gauntlet clutching the ratty curtains.

"What is it, Al...?"

"There's a body out there."

At first glance, it could easily have been mistaken for a few garbage bags. But Al was right- it was a body, a human form frozen in an unnatural v-shape, back apparently broken over a large trash can.

"What do you think happened...?" There was an audible tremble in Al's voice.

Ed bit his lower lip, forcing himself to look, to study the scene coolly. "It looks like... well, either something bent him like that, or... maybe he jumped. Jumped, from a few floors up, and hit wrong..."

"Look at that." Al was pointing. "That window's all smashed up... on the fourth floor. Above him. Do you think... he didn't open the window? But why?"

He could feel a cold lump in the bottom of his stomach, a knot twisting his throat. "Maybe he was running from something."

"We should tell someone, Brother." Al tugged on his sleeve, more than a little desperate. "Go tell someone, please."

Ed wrenched his eyes from the grisly scene, raising his eyes to Al's. "That's what I came up to tell you," he said bracingly. "There's... there's no one to tell."

"...What?"

"There's no one downstairs." Ed headed to the bed and picked up his bag, shoving in books and notes from the night before. "There's no one outside, either. There were even dishes and everything all over the place, like everyone just up and left while we were sleeping."

"But... but, Brother, that's not possible," Al said logically. "Where would they go? Why would they leave?"

"Don't ask me, pal." Ed handed Al the bag, who obligingly stashed it inside his breastplate. "Come on, let's get a move on."

"To the rail station? We need to report this to the Colonel, don't we?" Al followed at his heels.

"No, to town. We're gonna check this out so we have something to report." Ed grinned rakishly up at his brother.

"Brother... oh, fine, but wait for me!"

When other people were nervous, they headed home. When Edward Elric was nervous, he ran into the heart of the situation with automail sharpened and rampage in his eyes.

Only time would tell whose idea was the better one. 


	2. Chapter 2

Most days in the Rockbell household were not extraordinarily hectic. Pinako preferred to keep things quiet, and since Ed and Al only came by when they needed repairs, the only constant source of noise was Winry. She could only assume that the old woman didn't mind her crashing around and swearing at the various automail projects she kept up, because she never heard any complaints about it.

Well, most of the time.

"Winry- for God's sake, girl, settle down!"

"I left the extra screws somewhere, I think in one of the drawers upstairs, but I can't find them- he's gonna need the extra, he's back for repairs every three weeks-"

Pinako just glared, and Winry sat down meekly. "Relax. I know you get excited to show off, but if you run around like that, you'd give the poor man a heart attack. He needs that automail for farming, not fine motor work. The screws down here are fine for extras."

"Yes ma'am," she said agreeably, taking a bite of her toast. "You know best."

"Of course I do."

Winry stared at the door, willing for a knock to sound off the boards. It had been a while since they'd had any real work, so it was only natural for her to be a little anxious, a little excited. She had put her heart and soul into this new leg for the farmer down the road, and she couldn't wait to see his old, weathered face light up when he saw his new appendage. He was always so happy about their work.

"You know, I'm almost out of the eighteen-inch sockets," Pinako observed, rifling through the spares drawer.

"Yeah?" Winry perked up. "I could, um, go get some, you know. Pick up some other stuff..."

"In Central City, right?" She tried to look disapproving, but the glower ended up somewhere between a smirk and a snicker. "I'm sure you could take some time out of your busy schedule to go down on the train..."

"Sure I could!" Winry finished off the rest of her toast. "After he comes by, I can go down and check the train schedule."

"All right, you do that."

Winry leaned back in her chair, beaming at nothing in particular. Going down to Central meant she could see Ed and Al, and maybe even visit some other people. Not to mention the second-greatest shopping in the area. It was a pretty exciting prospect for a regular girl from Resembool.

A thump on the door startled her out of her reverie, and sent her straight into fluttering excitement again. "I'll get it!" Winry chirped, pushing back from the table and darting over. She pulled the handle, pasting on her most welcoming smile. "Hi! We've been waiting for you!"

The answer was a rattling sigh. The farmer stood slumped against the doorframe, chin on his chest.

"...Are you all right?" Winry leaned forward, concerned. Had he just fallen asleep? He was old, after all...

He sighed again, then lifted his head. Sunken eyes stared somewhere beyond her, and then he was lurching forward, a howl ripping from his throat-

She wasn't sure if she screamed. It was all really a mix of motion and adrenaline, a vortex of sound that ended with her flat on her ass on the floor, wrench in hand, and would-be-customer at her feet.

"God," she said numbly, staring at the crimson smear on her glove.

"Move," Pinako said curtly, and she obeyed, nearly tripping over the pipe the woman had dropped on the floor. Winry stabilized herself against the table with her free hand, unable to tear her eyes away from the farmer's crumpled form.

She didn't know quite what Pinako was looking for, but the 'hmph' sounded like she had some idea. "What… what's wrong with him?" Winry ventured, not loosing her grip on the wrench.

"Don't know," the old woman returned sharply. "But he's out for now."

"Just unconscious…" She heaved a sigh of relief.

Pinako remained a few safe feet from the man, staring thoughtfully. "Let's put him outside," she decided suddenly. "In the cow pen down the road."

"In the- what!" Winry gaped. "Why? Shouldn't we take him to the doctor or something?"

"No. Do as I say."

And, when it came right down to it, there was nothing else she could do. No amount of protesting would change her mind, and Winry was the only one of the two with the required upper body strength. So that left her to drag the old man down the steps, wrench within reach, hoping desperately no neighbors would wander by and accuse them of something terrible.

He was curiously light, more than a dead weight should be. He was breathing, which was obviously a good sign, but it was rough and shallow, like someone who was conserving all the energy they had.

Winry eased him over the fence as gently as possible, absurdly relieved that whoever owned this stretch of land had stopped using it for livestock some time ago. Not that a herd of cows would really do much damage to someone if not provoked, but it made her feel better to know he was alone. After arranging him on the softest pile of grass she could find, dealing with more than a little guilt, she boosted herself back over the fence and paused to catch her breath.

The sun was just rising, and Resembool was quiet. People were either sleeping or doing some quiet work around their own property, so the utter silence wasn't strange in the slightest.

She'd regained some sense of normality by the time she made it back to the house. He'd probably just had a little too much to drink the night before, or something like that. That wasn't too out of the ordinary for someone who worked all the time. No, there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. She just hadn't been sleeping a lot lately, with all the automail work.

It was only when Winry opened the door and saw Pinako placing the last of her bags by the door that the sinking feeling of simple wrongness returned.

"Go to Central like we said," Pinako said quietly, puffing at her pipe. "We need those parts."

"But… what if…" What if what, exactly, wasn't on the tip of her tongue.

"What if? Girl, you know I can handle things around here. Get going," she said irritably. "Talk to Ed and Al while you're up there. Make sure they're getting along."

Winry nodded silently and took her bags. It all made sense, on some level. She was planning to go down to the station after the farmer had come for her leg anyway. No reason to change the plans because he'd taken ill.

So she started the long trek to the rail station, conscious of eyes on her back until she turned the corner. The farmer moaned in the field to her right, but she didn't stop to take notice. Once she got far enough away, Pinako would stop watching.

Winry had no way to know that the old woman's thoughts weren't on the long journey she was about to undertake, but rather the makeshift grave she'd dug with her own two hands what seemed forever ago, and the terrible eyes she had hidden within it. 


	3. Chapter 3

If there was one thing Roy Mustang hated, it was reading reports.

The majority of the time, they were mind-numbingly boring. I went here, I looked at this, I talked to these people, then I came back, here are my expenses and I expect you to do all the paperwork. Whenever something more interesting was involved, it inevitably just ended up meaning additional forms to file by the end of the day. It wasn't that he resented his job, but it grew tiresome at times.

The only reports he didn't mind as much were Fullmetal's, if only because they were few and far in between, as well as extraordinarily amusing. The boy had no regard for protocol and simply wrote whatever he felt like, down to complaining about the lunch menu at the inn and detailing the items he appropriated from military stock. Since very little actual information was provided, that meant Fullmetal's registered job performance was dependant entirely on how whimsical Roy happened to be feeling when he wrote up the files.

So it was really no wonder that when Havoc presented him with a stack of papers first thing in the morning, before he'd even quite finished his coffee, his first instinct was to set them aside and continue looking out the window. When his subordinate did not accept this course of action and instead remained obstinate before his desk, staring at him, he merely became mildly irritated.

"I'll get to it, Havoc."

"I think you might be interested enough t' look now, sir." It was only then that Roy noticed the cigarette hanging limp from Havoc's mouth, which normally would be nothing to take a second look at, except that it was not lit and he apparently didn't intend to change that any time soon. Something had apparently disturbed the man enough that his habit was taking a back seat.

"Is something the matter, sir?" Hawkeye paused by his desk, a stack of files cradled tightly to her chest, evidently intended for his attention.

"No, I'm just reading these." Roy snatched the reports, motioning Havoc back to his desk with a curt nod. "They might take a while."

She gave him a disapproving glance, but set the folders down without a word. Roy kept one eye on her back until she sat down, noting with some interest that her hair had finally grown long enough to require two hair clips, rather than just the one large one in the middle. Maybe someday she would consider braiding it, instead of the clips? Not that Roy had any sort of preference for long hair, personally, but he certainly didn't complain that she had decided to stop keeping it so short. It was really a quite attractive hairstyle, even more when little strands fell loose and framed her face just so-

"Is there something you need, sir?"

"No, not at all." Roy hastily returned his attention to the papers he held.

At first, they seemed rather ordinary. Civil disturbance reports with no particular details, other than the problems were usually contained within one or two citizens of the area. The locations seemed rather close, but unrest tended to be localized like that. He eyed Havoc, who just nodded, encouraging him to keep reading.

The first three reports were all from small towns around the largely isolated area of Bord'wan. The few after that were about five or six miles away, and the few after that farther. While the citizens involved seemed lone individuals in the first four, the number increased bit by bit, until the last report from a suburb of East City, which detailed a small crowd. Roy skimmed through a few more times, then leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Whaddya think, boss?"

"Get me a map and some thumbtacks," Roy said decisively. "I'm properly intrigued."

"Brother, this is breaking and entering."

Ed waved an irritated hand back at Al, wriggling carefully through the window. "There's no one here, it doesn't matter. Give me a push, will you?"

The push was decidedly less gentle than it could have been, and it was only good reflexes that kept Ed from landing on his head on the floor. He tossed a glare back at the expressionless armor helmet that poked through the broken glass, then dusted himself off. "Thanks, pal. You almost broke my face."

"Is there anything in there?" The hollow voice was hushed, the eerie red glow of Al's eyes the only light in the room.

"Um..." Ed squinted, peering around. "Well, there's the front door... I'll go unlock it, let both you and some light in here."

The lock was nearly impossible to move, and it took all his strength plus bracing himself on the wall to get it to click open. The handle spun once in his hand, then unlatched with a whine.

"This place hasn't been kept up very well, has it..." Al had to duck to pass through the doorframe.

"Yeah, well, we can give the owner some design tips once we find him, huh?" Ed quipped.

Once his brother had joined him inside, enough light filtered through the doorway to illuminate the room a little better. Other than the broken glass from Ed's window entrance, the place seemed untouched; teacups sat on saucers by the entrance to what looked like a kitchen, stained with use, while a few books lay in a pile before a half-full bookcase.

"That's yesterday's newspaper, Brother," Al said quietly, indicating some crumpled newsprint by an armchair. "See the picture on the front, from that article you were reading on the train?"

"Yeah." Ed picked his way gingerly across the floor, avoiding broken glass. "That means whoever lived here was still here yesterday... just like everyone else."

"Do you think it was... that man, from the alley?" Al's voice was a little unsteady.

"Well, whoever that man was, it looked like he jumped from this house," Ed reminded. "The broken window, on the fourth floor."

In the silence that followed, Ed became uncomfortably aware of the stairs, visible through an open door in the back of the room. An open door that, as he noticed with a twinge in his throat, was hanging precariously off the hinges as though it had been torn from the wall.

"...I don't like this, Brother."

"Neither do I." He sighed, then shrugged. "Well, let's go look."

The stairs creaked plentifully under his weight, and practically screamed under Al's. Halfway up the second flight, a board gave way under his feet, and he would have fallen, were it not for Al's swift arm.

"Maybe he jumped because there was less of a chance of breaking every bone in his body," Ed muttered into his brother's breastplate, only half joking. Al tittered nervously and lifted him easily, setting both his feet firmly on a higher step. Once he regained his balance, Ed continued taking the stairs two at a time, but balanced just a bit more on the railing just in case. He didn't bother stopping at the second and third floors- they could go back later if needed, and the fourth floor was really what he was curious about, anyway.

Ed paused at the last landing, waiting for Al to finish picking his way up the stairs. Once the suit of armor reached his side and gave him a steady nod, he pulled the door open, bracing himself for whatever they might find.

It was a large room, wind whistling through the broken window that had proved the owner's final descent. Tables were littered with stray pieces of paper, notes and transmutation circles were scribbled on bare sections of the wall, and there was one large one etched across the wooden floor, barely visible under what looked like scattered flour.

"Brother, that's..."

"Yeah." Ed took a few careful steps into the center of the circle, chest tightening. It was the same circle they'd seen in the Fifth Laboratory in Central. The circle the military had researched to create the Philospher's Stone, from the bodies of human prisoners. Almost exactly, except for one thing. "Al, do you see that glyph, down there?"

"It's reversed, isn't it?" Al studied it closely. "Do you think it was just a mistake...?"

"I dunno." Ed continued staring at the array, turning in a slow circle. "Check out his notes, maybe that'll tell us something."

While Al rustled through papers, Ed knelt down, examining the etched circle closely. He brushed some of the whitish powder away, irritated, then in a moment of inane curiousity, took a whiff of what still remained on his finger. He recoiled instantly, bile rising in his throat.

"Brother, maybe you should look at these, too."

"Well, I've solved half the mystery already," Ed said quietly, wiping his fingers on his coat. "I know where the villagers went."

"What do you mean?"

"See that powder on the floor, all around us?" Ed gestured, noticing for the first time that the majority of it was lying in the etched lines of the array.

"Well, yes, but-"

"It's human bone." 


End file.
